


Nervous collapse

by munchingtin



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Dick Grayson Needs a Hug, Dick Grayson is Batman, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Mental Breakdown, Presumed Dead Bruce Wayne
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-24
Updated: 2019-11-24
Packaged: 2021-02-17 21:47:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21550279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/munchingtin/pseuds/munchingtin
Summary: Dick does not handle his new responsibilities well and seems to let everyone down in the process.
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Clark Kent, Dick Grayson & Damian Wayne
Comments: 6
Kudos: 219





	Nervous collapse

**Author's Note:**

> If you recognize parts of this work from before, you're right. I changed it.

  
  


It was one of those days. Dick wore his civilian clothing, but he still leaned against a chimney on a rooftop. He had his head lowered, muttering curses to the damned bricks. They could handle it; the chimney was not functional anyway.

  
  


Wherever Damian had run off to had better not be Crime Alley. He was not all too thrilled about separating Robin and Red Hood when they inevitably got to blows. He was without any of his gear, except for his grappling gun, so confrontation was out of the question. Even with the toxic fumes of a city like Gotham, the air felt thin and fragile.

  
  


It was a calm day. One of the first since he took up the cowl and prowled the rooftops, pretending not to be an impostor.

  
  


Dick had to admit that Damian’s unorthodox methods were effective. Oh, he would say it to the boy's face even if it did not balance on the line of going too far.

  
  


His heart had dropped to his stomach when Damian had realized the effect he had on Gotham criminals. After the morning news, Damian had been smug, and Dick nipped the kid’s ego in the bud a bit more than strictly warranted.

  
  


Now, Robin was somewhere in the city, in broad daylight, and Dick could not bring up the energy to run after the kid.

  
  


Dick felt like an invisible force was resting on his shoulders, pushing his spine into a bad posture. Despite his exhaustion, he did make the effort to confirm that Robin was, in fact, not headed for Crime Alley. The irresponsibility of his own behaviour towards Damian left him pained and dejected. He had no answer for the situation, or any means to solve it with a snap of his fingers.

  
  


Against his better judgement, he closed his eyes and whispered to himself. ‘I should go after Robin.’

  
  


Even so, Dick did not budge from his spot. His knees felt as though they had locked in place, but he was not really trying that hard to move them either. He briefly wondered about Deathstroke’s dealing rate, only finding himself half-serious. Seeing the man’s obsession with either himself or Damian.

  
  


He sighed and then took a few steps - one before the other, one at a time - forward before finally taking a sprint off the rooftops. He passed the edge and plummeted to the ground.

  
  


Seemingly at the last second, he fired his grappling gun and launched himself back into the air. Despite the fact he was not in costume he almost hoped someone could see him. His audience had decreased by a significant number after Blockbuster and Blüdhaven.

  
  


Dick allowed himself to flip once, before slinking back into the shadows. He landed with a roll in an alley and took off jogging to Robin's location.

  
  


He was too scared to lose anything or anyone else at this stage. It was like an irrational itch he had built up as more and more problems continued to pile up on his plate.

  
  


With Dick responsibilities piling up more and more every day, he had to hold on to any help he could get.

  
  


His performance as Batman left him less than popular with the Justice League. Though they had not been too fond of him anymore to begin with. Dick did not consider it too much of a loss to have fewer people disappointed in him.

  
  


It was late in the afternoon when Dick’s phone started beeping. It took all his focus to not burst into tears at that very second. He kept his voice calm as he continued the pleasant videoconference with Lucius Fox.

  
  


Bruce’s close confidant was supportive of Dick’s ideas for the company. Dick himself thought they were mediocre at best. The most logical and straightforward developments from Bruce’s solid foundations. Lucius assured Dick that the companies would make a come-back when a Wayne was back on the frontlines.

  
  


As Lucius droned on, Dick let the phone go on voicemail with a swift press on the flaring red pop-up.

  
  


Dick had trouble breathing.

  
  


He tried to reassure himself that whatever warranted the call was not life-threatening. It was his civilian number for non-urgent calls after all. He had no reason to worry much but this was Damian calling him.

  
  


Damian usually did not call, despite Dick’s insistence that he could at any time. And yet, here he was, rejecting the call now.

  
  


He was too busy keeping the company afloat in Bruce’s absence. It was necessary, a small voice in his mind told him, sounding suspiciously like Bruce. He could not silence the part of himself that kept screaming at him that he had made a mistake.

  
  


Dick tried to continue the meeting. His words were a bit winded, less passionate and he was rather distracted. Lucius caught on and was a bit ruffled, if not ever-patient. ‘Should we continue this at a later notice, Mr Grayson-Wayne?’

  
  


Dick wondered how much longer Lucius would continue to carry him in management. Despite his teachers' best efforts, he never worked as well with numbers as Tim or even Damian.

  
  


Ashamed, Dick gave in to the suggestion and bid Lucius a good evening.

  
  


Immediately, after the video-call ended, Dick rushed to look for his cell phone. After some fumbling, he found it lying next to the keyboard. He called Damian’s number back in a blind panic.

  
  


‘Damian! Hey, sorry I couldn’t answer. What’s up?’

  
  


For a moment, Damian was silent. ‘My apologies,’ he mumbled, which made Dick fear he had broken something fragile. ‘I did not intend to worry you.’

  
  


‘You didn’t, little D,’ Dick hoped putting on a smile would make his voice sound more cheerful. Damian was too observant for the kid's own good. ‘What can I do for you?’

  
  


Damian hummed, thinking about what he was going to say. Dick feared he could not stop himself from interrupting for much longer. Cutting the kid off with meaningless reassurances would make him shut down. He had long since learned that patience worked best with a boy that knew only how to act fast and without mercy.

  
  


Why exactly Dick was comparing a phone call to assassination, he did not really want to know.

  
  


‘I would like to ask if it is all right if I stayed at Jonathan’s place for dinner,’ Damian said after a pause. ‘Ms Kent invited me, and I have the impression that she insists. Naturally, it will not interfere with tonight in the slightest, as I will be back long before you feel the need to go out.’

  
  


Dick brought his palm to his forehead, his shoulders slumping in relief. He kept his breath from hitching in his throat. ‘Of course you can stay with at the Kent’s! Don’t worry about the time, okay? I won’t leave without you.’ He had learned the hard way that Damian was in a more irritable mood when he was exempt from patrol.

  
  


He left like a coward to admit that he relied on Damian. Even so, he could not stop himself from enjoying the time he spent with Robin at his side during the night. The kid was amusing and kept Dick’s mind from wandering to hostile places. Tim did always say that Batman needed a Robin.

  
  


‘If it is no trouble,’ Damian said, a slight tilt in his voice that betrayed a boyish sort of glee. Dick’s heart breaks a little whenever he hears it, rare as it was. He was so relieved Damian and Jon were getting along. The bubbly Super was a perfect influence for the young Bat.

  
  


‘Not one bit,’ Dick said. He ignored the knot that formed in his stomach. After months of assisting Dick, Alfred went on a well-deserved break to mourn his son in private. Dick was looking at a lonely evening by himself and he was not sure he could handle it. ‘Say hi to Clark and Lois for me. Try to allow yourself to have some fun, okay?’ he teased.

  
  


Damian hissed through his teeth as though offended. ‘Whatever, Grayson,’ and hung up. Dick let out a sigh. Damian's audible excitement, though not as vibrant as other kids his age, had been a balm to his shot nerves.

  
  


Dick lowered his head with the cell phone in his hands in front of him. Damian had sounded more like a kid than ever. He had actually been respectful to Dick, even if he had been overdoing it a fair amount. Relief crashed through him and his tears were streaking down his face. Some fell on the sensitive material that Barbara had asked him to look into before he could bring his arms up. He set it aside and dried his eyes with the sleeves of the expensive suit he had taken from Bruce’s closet. Not like the man was going to use it.

  
  


Dick sighed and shook it off, knowing he was going to get it from Alfred for wrinkling the fabric. Making Alfred iron his dead son’s suit the moment he returned after grieving, he felt bile rise up at the thought. He would rather burn the suit trying to iron it himself than put Alfred through that.

  
  


He looked at the clock. He still had to investigate the mob that had decided it was smart to crash in Red Hood's territory. He did not see the point of it. Jason was likely already demoing it from the inside out anyway. Even so, he did not think that he could face him yet. Not so soon after Tim had broken him out of Arkham, only for Jason to go out and terrorize the city.

  
  


Dick toyed with the thought of letting whatever Red Hood had in store for that mob to run its course. Then again, he knew his mind would torment him with thoughts of people like Sophia. Last he heard of her; she was excelling in college. He owed it to people like her to try. Batman owed it to people like Damian who are trying to better themselves after a rough life.

  
  


There were still unfinished cases that were breathing down his neck. Plus, Lucius was expecting him to finish his report on last week's conference tonight. He knew he was running late, even with the extension that Lucius had given him.

  
  


He had been meaning to work on it when Stephanie had called him two days ago, asking for Tim’s whereabouts.

  
  


Dick was dealing with the League’s increasing mistrust of the man behind the cowl and had felt stressed. In the end, Batman had opted for stepping back for a while to let the situation calm down. He had tried to explain that to Stephanie, but he feared he had only sounded like he was brushing her off. Dick had not meant to sound dismissive. Even so, he had nothing to offer her on Tim, except that he had left the country under the guise of a forged ID. She already knew as much, so it did little to calm the heated conversation.

  
  


It had been hard to return to the JLA meeting room after she hung up. It was to no one's surprise that Wonder Woman and the new Green Lantern kept glaring at him. Batman was messing up more than usual and it started to affect the team. His position within the JLA was shaky at best.

  
  


Barry Allen alone seemed keen on being friendly with Batman, still, for some reason. Right after the meeting Dick answered Flash’s call and helped with a lead on Leonard Snart. He had offered Flash everything he had found, though it was nothing much. Dick believed that Barry had been grateful, but even now he did not recall their exact exchange. In any case, it had done little to save him from Diana’s ire, though he had appreciated that Barry tried.

  
  


Looking back at his files, he remembered that he still needed to create an exercise regime for Damian. He had been hoping to teach the kid to use his already excellent reflexes in non-lethal attacks. It had seemed the perfect task to squeeze in-between calls. Needless to say, it worked as well as expected. Dick had to face the fact that he was going to have to start the project from scratch.

  
  


Dick felt tears prickling in his eyes again and he got up to gather the suit in his arms. Ironing would have to be first on the agenda. Even if he did not immediately recall why he had to have a suit ready for tomorrow in the first place. Dick knew he would either have to invest in tailored suits or pick up bodybuilding.

  
  


Dick hardly recognized the laundry room when he entered. He convinced himself that was because he usually never goes inside. Damian had complained about Alfred's reaction when he went to dress his own wounds.

  
  


The man was too busy scolding young Damian to mind Dick's amusement. Alfred had actually ended up washing Damian's mouth with soap. The memory of a shocked Damian, a forgotten sword in hand, had become one of Dick's favourite memories.

  
  


In the laundry room, it took him a while before he found the iron, which he proceeded to plug in the contact. He scrolled through the phone he used for work and checked his e-mail. Wayne Enterprises PR department was especially busy. Dick blinked when he read through them again and replied to them like the charming Wayne heir that he was.

  
  


Now he remembered why he needed the suit. There was a press conference for the Wayne Foundation subsidiary that he had to present. Dick had not even looked into the topic of the conference or what he would say. With a shaky breath, he began to iron his suit. He wished that Tim, who was so much better in the corporate world, was still there at his side. The thought was as much a disservice to Damian as it was to Tim who had left because Dick had forced him to.

  
  


His cell phone began to ring, and Dick furrowed his brow. He accepted the call with a sense of dread and in confusion. ‘Lucius,’ he greeted. ‘Did we not talk a few minutes ago?’

  
  


Lucius laughed as if Dick had told him a joke instead of asked him a legitimate question. ‘We did, but I had forgotten to ask something.’ Lucius waited for Dick to give the go-ahead. ‘Will Mr Wayne accept his responsibilities to the company at any time soon? I hate to ask you, but I fear I am having trouble contacting him myself.’

  
  


Dick’s brain short-circuited. ‘I understand your predicament,’ he said to give himself some time. ‘Tim is working on a project that has been time-consuming,’ he said with an air of ‘you know how they can be’. Lucius had raised three children, so he did know something about ‘how they can be’. He humoured Dick with a charming chuckle. They did not pretend their amusement was anything but fabricated. They were both socially apt enough not to comment on it.

  
  


‘I still would like to talk to him myself,’ Lucius insisted with the faked charm of a politician. ‘Do you have a means for me to contact him for some urgent matters?’

  
  


Dick hummed. ‘I’m afraid not, Lucius.’ Keep it personal, he heard Bruce grumble in his ear. Make the other party feel like they are obtrusive if they persist. ‘I will ask him to contact you the moment I see him. I will even stay with him until he does,’ he smiled. He knew he would already be happy if Tim even judged it a necessity to ever talk to him again.

  
  


Lucius was noticeably unhappy when he had to give in. ‘Very well, that will be all then,’ he said. They exchanged their good-byes and Dick placed his cell phone on the counter.

  
  


Dick was not all too aware of his surroundings when he finished ironing the suit. It was not up to Alfred’s standards, as Dick had never bothered to iron his clothing when he still lived in Blüdhaven. It would have to be enough for tomorrow’s press conference.

  
  


Dick checked the clock again and realized he must have lost time at some point. The clock mocked him by reading out that it was nearing eight.

  
  


Deciding to skip dinner altogether, Dick left the suit in the laundry room and lumped behind his desk. He skimmed through what he had already written for his report to Lucius. He found it near completion and fairly decent, even if he could not remember having ever written any of it. He finished up under half an hour and send it forward to the board of directors.

  
  


Dick crossed the report off his mental to-do list and gathered Barbara’s files to skim through them.

  
  


His eyes widened as he looked at the dates jotted down in the side-lines. He cursed under his breath and reached for the cell phone Bruce used as Batman to speed-dial Barbara. He debated coming up with an excuse before concluding that he would have to confess the truth.

  
  


‘Dick,’ Barbara greeted, which sounded as much as his name as it sounded like the insult. Dick winced at the harshness of her tone.

  
  


‘I’m sorry,’ he began. ‘I did not—’

  
  


‘You’re sorry for not deeming the case important enough to look into when I handed it to you?’ Barbara asked him. ‘Or for not calling me when you noticed you would not be able to get to it in time?’

  
  


‘Both,’ Dick mumbled, bringing his hand to his hair. ‘I messed up. Are you okay? Did you or Steph get hurt?’

  
  


‘As if I could,’ Barbara said without any heat. ‘Steph got shot at, but she is alright. She wanted to tell you about it two days ago, but I heard that conversation got side-tracked.’

  
  


Dick rested his forehead in his palm. ‘Yeah, it did.’

  
  


‘Hey,’ Barbara’s voice took a softer tone. ‘Are you doing alright? Stephanie won’t admit it for one more day, by my account, but we’re both worried about you. You’ve been slipping up.’

  
  


Dick took a shaky breath. ‘I’ll be alright, I’m a little in over my head right about now,’ he admitted. ‘I don’t really know what’s going on anymore.’ The honesty of his words hit him as much as the confusion did. He did not know why he said that or what he meant by it for that matter.

  
  


Barbara was silent a bit too long for Dick’s comfort. While he waited for her to speak up again, he went through some cases he wanted to look into tonight with Robin. Whenever Damian would be home, that is.

  
  


Dick paled. Was Jon going to bring Damian home? Or, even worse, would Clark insist on carrying Damian to their apartment? He would not appreciate Superman’s presence in Gotham, even if he allowed Jon’s. The latter was more for Damian’s sake than that it was an act of tolerance for other heroes in his city anyway.

  
  


Worst of all, Dick might have offered to pick Damian up himself. Calling Lois to make sure if he had or had not offered might be too revealing for his privacy. Lois was a bit too perceptive to not hear any clues about Dick's mental state. But if he had offered to pick Damian up and then failed to do so, that would mean a terrible misstep on Dick’s part. He did not know what to do.

  
  


‘Dick, are you listening?’ Barbara's voice broke through his musings.

  
  


‘Right,’ Dick shook his head to get his mind back on track, ignoring the lingering nausea for now. ‘No, I missed what you said, could you repeat that?’

  
  


‘Take a break, Dick,’ Barbara said, though Dick was sure she had been saying something else entirely. He might listen to the phone’s black box recordings to find out. ‘You need one.’

  
  


‘I can’t,’ Dick sighed. He was so tired; he could not recall the last time he slept for longer than a few hours at a time. His eyes traced over the files, but Dick had to read each line before he finally understood what it said. It was all a mess, and he hoped that Damian could fill in the gaps.

  
  


‘Of course you can,’ Barbara retorted, too aware of what Dick had meant. ‘You’re only going to make it harder for yourself to keep up if you go at it like this. Why don’t you swallow that pride of yours and call in some help, Batman?’

  
  


Dick could not do that, because he had already tried to call in some help. Flash was too busy with his case on Captain Cold, which Dick agreed took priority. Wonder Woman and Green Lantern had so far only tolerated his presence. Dick's relationship with Clark was in shambles in the wake of Bruce's passing. He had said some things he did not know if he could ever take back, but some part of him believed he had been right to say them.

  
  


With the main roster side-eyeing Batman, Dick thought it for the best to avoid the other members. If he could avoid it, he would rather prevent internal strife in the JLA.

  
  


As for his other options, Tim had left the country and had cut Dick off to the point of becoming a ghost. Jason was off killing whoever he deemed fit to die anywhere near Crime Alley. He was unapproachable and unreasonable. Barbara had turned down his request for help before. Though Dick now doubted if she knew he had been asking in the first place.

  
  


Dick was going to ask Stephanie, but it was best for the two of them to leave each other be for now.

  
  


The Teen Titans were angry with Batman's decision to fire their friend from being Robin. They loathed to accept Damian and were borderline antagonistic at the moment.

  
  


Dick had alienated himself from his own original team enough for them to not even be an option at this point. Everyone else was either out of the country or even off-planet.

  
  


Dick missed Roy. He missed Wally.

  
  


‘You’re right,’ he said into the phone, instead of anything else. ‘I’ll ask Barry for help with some cases, him being a forensic scientist and all that.’

  
  


‘A good idea,’ Barbara agreed kindly. ‘Try to go to sleep early tonight, alright?’ Which was as close to suggesting skipping patrol as she would ever dare to.

  
  


Dick recognized the end of a call when he heard one. He was not the only one who was busy. He smiled; his jaw felt painful when he did. ‘Coming from you? What a hypocrite.’

  
  


‘Shut up, Grayson,’ she laughed. They would all call Damian rude, but really, he just picked things up from everyone around him. ‘Take care, okay?’

  
  


‘You too, Babs,’ Dick sighed and hung up. He had been lucky to avoid her ire, ignoring her case the way he had. Though, maybe she had sounded a bit more annoyed than Dick had initially thought.

  
  


He mentally revised their conversation for social clues of her irritation. He could not find any, but he was still anxious about it. He found himself unable to let their talk go. He kept repeating her words over and over until he realized he had started twisting them.

  
  


Dick had to blink his tears away again, feeling the panic he had been bottling up all night creep up on him. He forced his eyes shut, breathing through his nose, trying to calm himself down. He had too much to do still for his emotions to hold him back.

  
  


From far away, heard the ringtone from his work cell phone. Dick had left the phone in the laundry room. It was laying next to his suit, which was ready for tomorrow’s speech, which he had not even written yet. His shoulders shook as he curled up in his chair, pressing his forehead against his knees. He could not move.

  
  


The phone continued to ring in the other room as Dick finally cried in his office, feeling both too cold and too hot. His skin was crawling, and he pushed his nails into the fabric of his pants.

  
  


Dick would have grabbed for the bottle if not for his hope to offer Damian a better hand than he had been dealt.

  
  


It was a good thing, with his past being what it was, that Dick had banned alcohol from the new apartment altogether.

  
  


His ringtone stopped, but the echo of it continued to play in his mind regardless.

  
  


He must have sat quietly for a long time when he was brought back to reality by a voice calling his name. ‘Dick?’

  
  


Dick looked up at the sound of the voice, wiping against his cheeks to get the tears off his face. ‘Clark?’ he asked, despite knowing it could not be anyone else. He expected Damian's voice to crack a bit more before sounding anywhere near Clark’s.

  
  


Clark stood by the entrance of the office in civilian attire. He stood in the doorway by himself looking unsure whether to come in.

  
  


‘Get out of my city,’ Dick hissed the second his brain caught up with the situation. Which had taken far too long, in retrospect. He could not handle having anyone being near him right now. He was all too aware that his grip on his temper was slipping. ‘Get. Out,’ he stressed heatedly.

  
  


Clark raised his hands in a universal sign of surrender. He was looking at Dick with an expression the vigilante was too tired to decipher. ‘It’s okay,’ Clark said. ‘It’s okay, breathe in and out.’

  
  


Dick jumped away from his desk, raising his leg to roundhouse kick Clark against the side of his head. With a surprised gasp, Clark blocked his kick if only so Dick would not hurt himself by trying to take him on unarmed. Dick gave up and slipped past Clark into the hallway.

  
  


‘Just go,’ Dick said, leaving his office. ‘I have nothing to do for you.’

  
  


‘I came to bring Damian home,’ Clark said sadly. ‘You didn’t answer your phone.’ He kept his hands to himself, but his voice took on a panicked edge. ‘Come on Dick, you can’t go there. The kids will see you.’

  
  


Dick collapsed against the wall when his legs gave out. His chest hurt because of heart palpitations. He felt too unstable for whatever reason. He waved Clark off before rubbing his eyes. He could remain upright without his help as soon as he got his vision to stop swimming. ‘Sorry,’ he mumbled. ‘You’re right, thank you for dropping him off.’

  
  


Dick tried to remember if he had promised to pick Damian up after all. Instead all he remembered was that he had boiled some water in the kitchen. He had never actually gotten around to make himself some tea. That must have been hours ago.

  
  


Shaking the memory off, Dick pushed himself away from the wall. Right away, Clark grabbed his shoulder.

  
  


Dick fell against Clark’s chest into a hug. His thoughts came to a sudden stop as Clark steadied him in a firm hold. It was too similar to how he used to act around him when he was still a child. He had been much freer to Dick back then, to compensate for what Bruce did less and less as time passed by. Clark shushed him with his lips against his scalp and rubbed his back. ‘Breathe, Dick.’

  
  


Dick hid his face in Clark’s shirt, shaking with sobs that finally spilt over his lips and rattled his frame. He grabbed a fistful of fabric before he realised it. He knew that Clark was telling him to calm down, but he had too little control over himself to do just that.

  
  


All too soon he began feeling closed-in. He hit Clark’s chest with the flat of his palm. Clark could not stop him in time so the nerves in his hand flared up in sharp pain. ‘Let go,’ he hiccupped, his voice crackling like a prepubescent boy. ‘Let go.’

  
  


‘Oh Dick,’ Clark loosened his hold, but grabbed Dick’s biceps before he could escape. ‘You need to breathe first,’ he shook him once to get Dick to focus on him. He blinked to clear his vision, but Clark’s face remained blurry. ‘Come on,’ Clark coaxed. ‘Copy me. In, out. Good. In, and out.’

  
  


Dick followed Clark’s instructions when the man guided him to another room. He knew his compliant state of mind was dangerous and easy to exploit. Judging from the frown on Clark’s face he had come to the same conclusion. Dick was lucky to not be out on the street.

  
  


When they reached his bedroom, Dick’s breathing had calmed down. He was coming down to his sensibilities with increasing discomfort. Clark helped him lie down when a sharp sense of shame washed over him. ‘Fuck,’ he breathed, ‘Fuck.’

  
  


‘Happens to the best of us,’ Clark answered, so understanding and soft like always. ‘Good thing you’re in sweatpants already.’

  
  


Dick's sob broke into a wheeze. The idea of Clark helping him trying to be comfortable was mortifying. But it was also a fond memory of when Clark ended up babysitting him when injured as Robin. ‘I had a video call,’ he slurred in explanation. ‘Anything below the waist is fair game.’

  
  


‘You’re one of those people then,’ Clark whispered in mock awe like he was about to report the scoop of the century. ‘Why am I not surprised?’ He lowered the covers over Dick’s limp body, resembling the act of tucking in on supposed autopilot.

  
  


Right, Clark had a kid of his own now. Jon. The wonderful boy who got Damian to open up in ways only a friend your own age could.

  
  


Dick blinked and tried to sit up. Clark pushed him back down right away. He raised his eyebrow at the vigilante with worry. ‘What are you doing?’

  
  


‘I have patrol,’ Dick mumbled, struggling against Clark’s hand in vain for a few seconds. ‘Damian will want to go out soon.’

  
  


Clark frowned. ‘Be reasonable. You will hurt yourself as well as Damian.’

  
  


Dick paled. He closed his eyes and brought his palm to his forehead. His skin was muggy with sweat, even to himself. He could not go out like this, he knew that, but there was so much still left to do. Opening his eyes to glare at Clark, he struggled with renewed vigour. Clark held him down without effort. Dick stopped.

  
  


‘I’ll send Damian to bed,’ Clark suggested. ‘I have flown over Gotham before. The city has been quiet; I’ll be able to run your errands with ease on nights like this. Maybe I’ll throw off some of your goons too.’ Clark paused and eventually sighed but his breath was chocked up.

  
  


Dick did not know how to interpret that.

  
  


Clark brushed through his hair. The gesture took away the tension in Dick’s spine and he shuddered. His eyes fell closed. ‘I’ll shadow Damian after I send Jon back home,’ Clark said then. ‘He won’t be out without you.’

  
  


It was utter defeat, that is all Dick could take from the situation. He felt shame for giving up, but he knew too well that he could not place his burdens on his baby bird alone. ‘Take care of him, Clark,’ Dick conceded, feeling tears well up behind his eyelids. ‘Keep him safe. I can’t lose him because of all this. I can’t take it anymore, I can’t.’

  
  


If Dick’s words threw him off, Clark did not show it. ‘Alright,’ he agreed simply, voice warm and soothing. He did not move or speak again. He stayed by the bedside up until he fell asleep.

  
  


Dick’s dreams were erratic and filled with nightly terrors. He woke up many times but was never aware enough to wake up fully.

  
  


Dick finally regained consciousness what felt like a few hours later. He felt less anxious at first, but panic built up as soon as he saw through the curtains that it was morning.

  
  


He jumped off the bed, throwing the blankets off the mattress as he went. He still wore the same clothes as the night before.

  
  


Dick rushed to the lounge where he found Damian lying on his stomach, a large sheet of paper in front of him. Damian looked up with a frown, one more prominent than his usual. They stared at one another for a bit before Dick asked: ‘You’re okay?’

  
  


Damian blinked before looking away. He chewed on his lower lip, not saying anything.

  
  


Dick sighed, having half-suspected something like this might happen. He walked into the room and sat down on the couch. Damian was drawing Jon wearing a cowboy hat. The super was riding on the back of a giant pig with wings and carrying what looked like a tree trunk with an angry face.

  
  


He should call Lois and apologize for whatever mess the boys had gotten into at her mother-in-law’s farm.

  
  


Dick let his eyes wander to the clock on the wall. Clark must have left to get to work after keeping his promise. He was glad for that. He did not want to see Clark again so soon. Not while he was still so shaken and angry that he directed all his frustrations at the man.

  
  


Damian looked back up.

  
  


‘I’m sorry,’ Dick diverted his eyes from the clock to look Damian in his eyes. A vibrant green, so much more like Talia than Bruce. ‘I was not there for you yesterday and I brushed you off. I was –’ He shook his head and smiled, his skin felt stretched and thin. ‘I am having a bit of a rough time and I made mistakes.’

  
  


Damian twirled his pencil on his index finger. ‘It is not that,’ he finally mumbled at Alfred the Cat’s sleeping form. ‘I thought you trusted Robin to help. You should have let me do that. Instead I was running around in Metropolis like a child.’

  
  


Dick winced, knowing that there was little he could say to that without sounding like a hypocrite. ‘And I’m glad you were. No, don’t interrupt me.’ He held his hands up, his tone gentle. ‘You’re little D and you’re Robin, I trust you with everything I have. And,’ because he refused to say ‘but’, ‘I still want you to have fun.’

  
  


Damian frowned at him. ‘I can’t support the mission when I am otherwise engaged,’ he bit back. ‘You should have pulled me back the instance you noticed yourself slipping.’

  
  


‘Dami,’ Dick sat on his knees on the floor, his hand absentmindedly stroking Alfred’s fur. ‘I love you and I want to see you happy. Knowing you’re enjoying yourself with Jon helps me calm down too.’

  
  


‘I do not enjoy spending time with Jonathan.’

  
  


Dick diverted his gaze to stare at Damian’s drawings for a bit. His point proved itself; Damian huffed with a pink blush. ‘I don’t enjoy spending time with him, much.’

  
  


Dick brightened up. ‘I am glad you’re making friends. I’m not just Batman, either. I’m Dick Grayson, too. Of course I am happy to see you having fun. You have been a great help and I don’t know what I would do without you. Even so, you are a child and my problems are under no circumstance your responsibility.’

  
  


He paused to think, his hand still up in the air to keep Damian from responding. ‘I should have told you before that I was having trouble, without making you feel like you have to compensate for me.’

  
  


Dick hugged Damian, mostly because he wanted to every chance he got, but also because he needed to be the adult here. Letting Damian see his eyes tear up would definitely defeat that purpose. ‘I will be more honest with you from now on,’ he promised. ‘So you won’t have to worry about me, okay?’

  
  


‘I was not worried,’ Damian grumbled into his chest, his voice muffled. ‘You are delusional.’

  
  


Dick petted his head, letting go before Damian had enough and would resort to violence. ‘I like your drawing.’

  
  


Damian appeared scandalised. There was only a little bit of uncertainty left in his eyes, but that should fade soon enough.

  
  


Suddenly remembering a bit more of last night, Dick barely kept himself from cursing. ‘The press conference,’ he groaned, reluctantly getting up. ‘Think I could wing it?’

  
  


Damian’s face twisted with repulsion at his choice of words. ‘You’re a disgrace, Grayson.’

  
  


Laughing at Damian’s expense was proving to be much too fun as of late. Dick made his escape before his face would inevitably fall. He was glad his voice did not hitch during their talk. He was equally relieved Damian was a child still and easily placated.

He walked through the hallway to the laundry room, planning to grab his suit. He would have to come up with something to say while he was driving. He had given enough speeches to be somewhat confident he could pull it off without too many problems. Though it would help if he knew what the event was about.

  
  


He made a B-line for the kitchen before grabbing the suit. He judged it best to not risk messing the suit up before the conference. That, and he felt especially peckish having not eaten the night before. He froze when he saw Clark leaning against the window with a mug of coffee in hand. It was Bruce’s old mug, the one with Superman’s logo on it.

  
  


Clark raised the mug in greeting, a shy smile. ‘Nothing happened. Turns out people suspect the Bat of planning something big when he is absent for the night. Most try to stay out of the way,’ he summarized.

  
  


It calmed Dick’s nerves quite a bit.

  
  


Dick fabricated his expression into something more grateful, because he knew was scowling. ‘Thank you,’ he said. He opened the fridge and grabbed the unsweetened rice milk. Damian insisted that it was both healthier and more ethical. The kid had somehow convinced Alfred to alter his shopping habits and Dick had mad respect for that feat. ‘I owe you one.’

  
  


Clark shook his head. He watched Dick prepare his sugary breakfast with exasperation but decided against commenting. ‘Let me add on that,’ he chuckled. ‘I heard your rich-people event got cancelled.’

  
  


Dick froze, spoon near his mouth. ‘What?’

  
  


‘Apparently,’ Clark took another sip of his coffee with a broad smile. ‘You caught the flu from Damian. It seems to be the virus that has been circulating the school for a while now. The event was cancelled last minute, so I did not have to come in today. Your agent assured everyone you would be fine.’

  
  


‘My agent?’ Dick asked breathlessly. ‘I don’t have an agent?’

  
  


Clark was full-on laughing at him now. Dick could not help but laugh with him when he finally figured it out, a bit winded from the news as well as Clark’s attempts at humour. ‘I can’t believe Oracle messed up Wayne Enterprise’s PR schedule like that. I bet they’re pissed.’

  
  


Clark sat down at the dining table opposite to Dick. ‘You could use a day to get everything in order.’ His expression saddened; he lowered his voice as though he expected Damian to overhear. Dick guessed it was a habit one picked up when living in the Clark-Lane home. ‘You are in a bad place.’

  
  


Dick sighed, leaning his head on his hand. He was not too upset about Barbara changing his plans and maybe that should tip him off more than it did. ‘I upset Damian,’ he said softly, knowing that Clark would understand what he meant. ‘You’re right, I could use a day to set everything right.’

  
  


Clark narrowed his eyes before nodding. He reached in his pocket and handed Dick back the phones he used as Night- _Batman_ and the one for civilian use. He must have taken them last night.

  
  


Dick accepted it and turned his civilian phone back on first. He a text from Lois. She thanked him for letting Damian come over and wished him a good night, asking if he was okay. Dick apologised for his late reply. He skipped out on giving an explanation and thanked her for hosting Damian.

  
  


The other phone displayed two missed calls from Barbara and a text asking him to call her. She said she worried and hoped he was doing alright. She also confessed to changing his schedule like Dick suspected and promptly assured him that she would not apologise for it. He replied to her messages with honesty. He told her that he had had a rough night but was doing better this morning. He promised to call her later in the day.

  
  


He was most touched by Stephanie’s text. She said she was still upset and would be for a while longer. Even so she made a seemingly genuine offer to help with anything so he could look more into Tim’s whereabouts. He could not blame her. He replied that he would let her know what she could do soon. An apology would not help in this case. He accepted it would take more time before her ire had settled a bit.

  
  


Dick put the phones away and smiled wryly. ‘I upset a lot of people,’ he corrected his earlier comment. ‘I should fix that.’

  
  


Clark finished his coffee and hummed lightly. ‘Yeah. Maybe you should.’

  
  


Dick weighed his options and wondered how much he would come to regret it. ‘Maybe I could use an agent.’

  
  


Unfortunately, Clark was not stupid, and he pursed his lips. His eyes sparkled with amusement. ‘No,’ he deadpanned.

  
  


‘A manager?’

  
  


‘Dick.’

  
  


‘My own personal --’

  
  


‘I will write an unflattering article about you.’

  
  


Dick laughed loudly and without restraint. He felt surprisingly light at that moment and planned to enjoy it. He sighed, leaning to balancing on the two back legs of the chair. ‘I am still angry with you,’ he said without remorse. ‘Bruce is dead, and I want to blame you.’ He nodded in the direction of the phones. ‘I can’t though when I know it wasn’t your fault and with you helping me out despite me being all… well, me.’

  
  


Dick looked outside the window, avoiding looking at Clark at all cost. If that made him a coward then he would be alright with that just this once. ‘This is a start, but it won't fix anything. Not really.’

  
  


‘No, it won't,’ Clark admitted. His voice wavered from when his eyes glossed over with tears when Dick mentioned Bruce.

  
  


The JLA did not like to bring it up, but with Batman’s death, Diana and Clark lost their best friend. They grieved in their own equally infuriating ways.

  
  


But Clark looked somewhat happy now for whatever reason.

  
  


Dick was dreading all that he had to do once he finished his breakfast. He had to smother his bemused huff when Clark seemed to read his mind and got up to turn the coffee machine on. He grabbed another mug. The Robin-themed one.

  
  


Dick took a shaky breath. 'After that you're out of Gotham.'

  
  


Clark knew that he meant it in earnest and that he was not going to be welcome for much longer. For now, he basked in the peace of their cease-fire as long as it lasted. ‘Sure thing.'

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading.


End file.
